


Dahlia (Rewrite of Flower)

by Rebldomakr



Series: Dark Triad [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Harry's 9 to 10 Years Old, Harry's Got Issues, Intrusive Thoughts, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mentions of Animal Cruelty, Psychopathic Tendencies, Rewrite, sociopathic tendencies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 12:09:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13317801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rebldomakr/pseuds/Rebldomakr
Summary: Lily worries her son is too abnormal.(Sequel to Preemptive)





	Dahlia (Rewrite of Flower)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rewrite of my fic 'Flower'. I'm not going to lie- I only checked this over once for mistakes. I'm certain there's still some in here, but, hey, I tried! That's more than I do most of the time lmao

Dr. Bates was a respected psychologist and therapist, handling mostly children from upper-class London families. He tended to deal with depression and anxiety, specializing in children who had trouble socializing with their peers. He had just published a book on teaching your child coping methods when confronted with anxiety-inducing social situations. Still, he handled the occasional case that was different from his usual.

The poor young girl who’d been molested by a female tutor, for instance, came to him for help when she was twelve. Her parents hadn’t believed her until the tutor was arrested for molesting another child. It resulted in a long list of issues, but Dr. Bates was able to help the young girl. It had taken five long years of therapy, weekly visits, and near-daily calls, but the girl improved. She was now studying to become a heart surgeon in the United States, called him occasionally to update him on her life.

He had also helped a rebellious teenage boy whose problems was rooted in neglectful parents and feelings of inadequacy. The boy had become a man and was proudly working as a detective, despite his parents’ disapproval. Dr. Bates also helped two remaining girls from a set of triplets move past the death of their sibling, and even a young woman moving past the stillbirth of a child she had worked so hard to conceive with her boyfriend.

However, it was a first when Lily Potter came to him. Apparently, he came recommended from a friend of hers, a long-gone case he’d handled years previous. He only partially remembered Severus Snape, whose mother told of an abusive, alcoholic father, but he was amazed he had left such an impact that the boy- no, man, recommended him.

Lily presented her son, Harry. He had collected a drawer full of animal remains he’d gathered himself, and weapons. The boy had confessed to his mother of abusing and killing strays, stealing the weapons from wherever he could. He had even shown his mother where he had buried a recent kill and the knives he used to dissect it. She said her son was only apologetic that he’d been caught. In her eyes, she understood he was only trying to lessen the punishment by revealing everything.

Dr. Bates had never handled a child with psychotic tendencies before, but he was willing to try. He contacted a few of his associates, who gave him tips and recommended published works for him to go over. “Psychotic children can’t be fixed, but they can be prepped for society.” One told him. Another said, “Boy’s lost, all you can do is give some comfort to his parents.” He decided to judge if the boy could be saved or not on his own, after he met little Harry Potter.

He questioned the mother for the boy’s background. He learned of the boy’s years of bed wetting, an instance where she found him lighting every candle in the house. She explained she thought nothing of the candle-lighting at the time, but now thinks it as strange. A preemptive strike she was too deep in motherly love to see. He was told that Harry was close to his father and to two of his father’s friends, one of which was his godfather.

“My son gets everything he asks for,” Mrs. Potter said. “I have tried to convince my husband to not spoil him so much, but I’ve never succeeded. He’s gone through a number of fur coats that he grows out of, or just ruins.”

“What do you and your husband do for a living?” Dr. Bates asked.

“My husband works as a private guard, but he’s from a wealthy family. His father left him a fortune.” She said. “I stay at home, mostly, but I sometimes do work in chemistry and botany with friends of mine.”

Dr. Bates nodded. ‘ _Wealthy father and an educated mother_ ’ He wrote into his pad. “Has he shown any interest in either your or your husband’s work?”

“He’s always liked playing with some of the things my husband would bring back from work. I didn’t think much of it, just thought it was a young boy’s thing for dangerous toys.” She admitted. “I trusted my husband enough to watch him. Do you think I’ve been too apathetic?”

“That isn’t my place to say.” He said. “However, if you were truly apathetic, you wouldn’t be here talking to me.”

(LINE_BREAK)

Harry Potter wore dark blue breeches, white cotton stockings, a white linen shirt with a blue ribbon looped underneath the collar and tied to a large bow in the front, a blue blazer, and shiny black shoes. He looked very much like a child from an upper-class family in the Victorian era. He seemed out of place in Dr. Bates’ office, green eyes offering a dead stare and a turned upside down mouth.

“Is it all right if I call you Harry?” Dr. Bates asked.

The boy nodded, but he didn’t speak.

“Do you know why you’re here, Harry?” Dr. Bates wrote ‘ _quiet, cautious. Perhaps suspicious of me and my purpose to help him._ ’ Into his notepad.

“Mum is upset about my playing.” Harry said. “I know I broke some rules, I’ve apologized.”

“Your playing? Do you mean your mutilation of those animals?” Dr. Bates said.

“Mu-ti-lation.” Harry sounded out. ”What does that word mean?”

“Seriously damaging something, such as cutting open the animals and removing their organs and bones.” Dr. Bates explained. “It isn’t seen as a very good thing.”

“So I’ve been mutilation animals?” Harry asked.

“You’ve been mutilating animals.” Dr. Bates corrected. “Do you understand the wrong in your actions?”

“I haven’t done any wrong!” Harry shouted, the softness of his voice and features vanishing. His lips twisted into a snarl, green eyes brightening to a near glow before it dulled to a darker shade than it was before. “I haven’t! Mum is lying! I’m not sick and I haven’t done anything bad!”

Dr. Bates didn’t loosen his grip on his pen until Harry had relaxed. It took several minutes.

Harry spoke before the psychologist could. “Maybe mutilating animals isn’t bad. Just because you think something is bad doesn’t make it bad. Dad says that type of thoughts is black and white.” He said. “I’m not dumb, I know you’re supposed to be some sort of mind doctor, but I know better. Your stupid tricks aren’t going to beat me.”

“I don’t want to beat you, Harry, this isn’t a fight.” Dr. Bates said. “I’m only here to try to help you.”

“Help me with what?” Harry questioned, narrowing his distrustful, hateful gaze.

“Your understanding of right and wrong, surely you must realize it isn’t, when those around you tell you-” Dr. Bates began.

“No! Only mum and you say that!” Harry stood up. “I’m done here!” He bolted out of the office before Dr. Bates could react.

* * *

 

James was taught by his mother to treat all animals with kindness. She used to say all animals and plants carried souls of their own, though different than those that belonged to a human. “They are alive, Jamie, and must be treated with respect.” She told him. She taught him how to tend to the gardens outside their home. He used to spend the mornings helping her feed her animals; an army of wild creatures from cows and pigs to peacocks and snakes.

She had also taught him to respect the ways of nature. “A rat is alive, but it’s also prey.” She said, holding a fat black rat in her hands. “It’s food to other animals, just as grass and nuts and insects are its food. You mustn’t be upset when it’s eaten. Just as you won’t cry when a butcher kills a cow for its meat. Life demands respect, but there is a natural order of death you must also respect.” She said. She had held the rat up into the air and her familiar, a snowy owl who liked to bark at noon with the roosters, swooped from the air and grabbed it.

Euphemia Potter had died from a particularly strong strain of Dragon Pox. Both her and her husband had pissed within six months of each other. As she died, she asked for her body to be buried without a casket near a tree. She asked for a garden to be made above her body. She hoped she’d be the nutrients for new life, she didn’t want to be kept from the earth by a box. His father had respected her wishes, then asked for the same when he died shortly after, by the same strain of the disease.

If it hadn’t been for Lily, James doubted he would’ve made it out of the tragedy. His parents were dear to him and it was hard to imagine losing them so soon. He felt as though he’d been cheated.

When he was given a son, James considered it the world’s way of righting a wrong. Harry was born in the middle of the war, but the war was dying down. He and his wife left it immediately, moving to Godric’s Hollow, swearing to keep out of the war until their son had grown up enough to take care of himself.

When Lily told him their son had been collecting animal parts, torturing and killing strays, James blamed himself. He had never taught his son the importance of life. It was not as Lily said, that he was mad, because he knew better. If his son was mad, James knew he’d be able to tell. Harry certainly never acted mad. He had even apologized when the animal parts were found! He simply didn’t understand.

James fought her when she decided to take him to some muggle mind doctor. “Muggles live to different standards.” He said. “We can handle this on our own, we just need to teach Harry what life is-“

“James, he shouldn’t need to be taught to know how horrible it is to hurt animals! Especially the way he did!” Lily had said.

They fought. James eventually agreed to allow at least a trial run with the mind doctor.

He had been the one to drop Harry off and waited to take him home. Lily was off visiting with Snape, probably to complain about how horrible her husband was. In James’ opinion, she was the worst one; trying to deem their son a madman when he was years from even being close to a grown adult!

The door opened ten minutes into what was supposed to be an hour and half session. Harry stormed out.

“Daddy!” Harry cried. “I hate him! I hate this! Please, don’t make me do this!”

James swept the boy into his arms and looked at the doorway, where the muggle mind doctor was standing with a frown.

“We’ll be going.” James said. “I’m not going to make my son do this.”

“Mr. Potter, I advise against it.” The muggle warned. “Your son is clearly unstable, he needs coping methods, _something_ , or he’ll simply follow down a well-known path. He isn’t the first of his kind.”

“His kind?” James snorted. Harry buried his face in his father’s neck. “He’s just a boy. You can’t determine anything about what he’ll be in the future.”

“You’re wrong. Of those who’ve behaved similarly, they’ve grown to be repeat violent offenders. Murderers, rapists-“

“We’re done here.” James hissed. “I can’t believe I listened to my wife!” All the mind doctor was going to do was fill Harry’s head with horrible things.

He left the building and once he was in the clear, he Apparated to Diagon Alley. He was going to buy his son ice cream, it always made Harry happy in the past.

* * *

 

James bought Harry a bowl of ice cream in Diagon Alley. One scoop of blood-favor, two scoops of chocolate, and three scoops of fairy-dust, topped with chocolate syrup, cherries, and whipped cream. He got himself a strawberry ice lolly.

“You won’t have to go back to that man.” James promised.

Harry twisted his spoon and pulled it out, full of chocolate. “I don’t like him. He said mean things.” He stuffed the spoon into his mouth.

“I know.” James said, he sighed. “Why don’t I get you some books? Maybe we can take your interest of, um, cutting things, into something good. Maybe you’d like to be a Healer.”

“Healers just give me shots and cast spells that make me feel funny.” Harry said.

“They do other things. In battles, they take care of the wounded. They stitch them up, use spells to clean their injuries and heal them. Sometimes they have to cut into people to remove things that are making them unwell.” James said. “Would you like that?”

Harry blinked, seeming to consider, then he nodded. “I would, I think.” He said.

“We’ll buy you loads of books on the subject!” James decided. “Maybe get you dummies, or things already dead, to practice the things in the books.”

“I’d like that.” Harry bobbed his head, eyes wide and shining. James smiled.

He’d have to fix his mistake of not properly teaching Harry what life is. This is the first step.

* * *

 

 _You should just kill her._ A voice whispered nastily in the side of Harry’s head, but he ignored it and instead looked down at the floor as his mother scolded him.

“-don’t want anymore of this happening inside the house! Do you understand? Do you? Harry! Look at me!” Lily grabbed his chin and forced his head up. “Do you understand?” She repeated.

Harry pulled at her fingers and forced her grip off of him, then stepped back. “I didn’t mean to drop the jar, mum. It was an accident.” He said, glancing over at the broken glass, preserving potion soaking into the carpet, and the plump deer heart sitting in the middle of it all.

“I thought we’d agreed to keep those things in the shed?” Lily folded her arms across her chest.

“You said to preserve them the shed. You never told me I couldn’t have the jars in my room.” Harry said.

“Don’t give me any mouth.” She said. “Harry, I want you to promise me you won’t take them out of the shed anymore. If you have any jars in your room, I want them in the shed immediately. I’ll be checking to make sure.”

Harry frowned, but nodded. “Yes, mum.” He said. “Do you want me to clean that up?” He pointed to the mess.

“No, I will. Go do what I told you to do.” She ordered. Harry did.

In the past year, since discovering the museum of bones and knives in Harry’s bedroom, the Potter family had adjusted. James began encouraging Harry to tend to the plants in their greenhouse and took him on hunting trips. He hoped to teach Harry the value and importance of life, and he thought he’s been doing well. At the same time, Harry was given unlimited funds to purchase things that allowed him to dissect cadavers, from the cadavers themselves to books, dissecting tools, preserving potions, and whatever else. He used the funds to pickle organs from the animals he and his father hunted.

His mother fought tooth and nail for things to be done her way. She won a number of battles. Harry had attended a few lessons with other children at St. Mungo’s, leaning basic first aid, types of wounds and how to classify them, basic medicines that could be made without the help of any magic. She refused to allow him to have a pet, going as far to make Sirius return the owl he’d chosen for Harry for his birthday. He also had to see Dr. Bates once a month, even if he did nothing but stare at the muggle man. She had become suddenly aware of his ‘anger problems’ and believed the sessions would help.

Harry **hated** Dr. Bates. The man was like his mother, they both thought he had anger problems and that he wasn’t normal.

 _Stupid, vile, ugly, horrible woman_ , The voice that-was-him-but-not-him rang angrily inside of his skull. He shoved it down and sighed. Harry did love his mother, he did. He didn’t like it when that voice insulted her or tried telling him to kill her. She just didn’t understand him and that wasn’t a crime punishable by death.


End file.
